My blessing be on Waterford, the town of ships,
For it's what I love to be streeling on the quay,
Watching while the boats go out, watching them come in,
And thinking of a one I know that's sailing far away.

It's well to be in Waterford, to see the ships,
The great big masts of them against the evening sky,
Seagulls flying round, and the men unloading them,
With quare strange talk among themselves the time you're passing by.

I love to be in Waterford, to see the ships come in,
Bringing in their cargoes from west, and east, and south.
Some day one I love will stand there upon the quay,
He'll take my two hands in his own, and stoop to kiss my mouth.